


All The Names They Called My Way

by Lesbianna



Series: Kurtbastian First Kisses [4]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bullying, Dumpster Tossing, First Kiss, M/M, Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 03:35:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16054688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesbianna/pseuds/Lesbianna
Summary: He straightened his polo shirt with his hand, and started walking towards the doors, studying the students – timid freshmen moving about in small clusters, even several months into the school year, confident cheerleaders strutting with their tiny skirts swishing, nerdy kids of either sex reading as they walked, jocks throwing balls at each other. It was like a zoo.A group of boys in letterman-jackets were laughing raucously and high-fiving each other, as though they had just accomplished the funniest task.Behind them, a boy was hauling himself out of a dumpster, peeling a loose-fitting, discolored sweater off, to reveal what was clearly some high-end fashion shirt, the fabric shimmering in the cold air.Sebastian felt something bitter twist inside him at the sad sight. The boy looked unaffected, though disgusted, and just started walking, after having packed away the shirt, his face just expressing cold superiority.Gods. Public school already looked like it was going to be a disaster.-The Dalton students are being sent to McKinley for a week. Public school is a whole different world.





	All The Names They Called My Way

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I went with the ‘Dalton is a snobby school’ canon. I know a lot of y’all like the fun fanon Dalton that the Glee fandom cooked up, but the only canon interpretation of Dalton is that outside of being a Warbler (and even most of the time when you ARE a Warbler) it’s very stuck-up, pretentious and ridiculously lavish, and I decided to use the canon Dalton for this story. It just worked as a reason they’d be going to McKinley, y’all!  
> This story takes place in season 1, AKA, Sebastian never lived in France, or if he did, he moved to the US much earlier. They’re the same age (AKA, in the same year of school).

The grey, depressing sky seemed to be reflecting the depressed mood of the twenty or so teenage boys from Dalton Academy standing outside the beautiful school building, huddling in their expensive blazers, shiny shoes, and perfectly knotted ties. A couple of them were wearing expensive jeans – Valentino jeans was the preferred brand -, rather than the loose-fitting slacks of their school uniform.

“We’ll fit in better!” David had explained to Sebastian, while he cheerfully searched through Sebastian’s closet for a well-fitting polo shirt.

Said ‘fitting in’ was necessary because they weren’t going to be at Dalton this week.

The more privileged students were sent to a public high school for a week. To see how the ordinary, mediocre losers lived, and then the poorest and stupidest of the students at the public school were sent to Dalton for that same week.

It was supposed to inspire compassion for those who were worse off than they were, those who didn’t have enough money to pay for good schools and decent educations and lunch that wasn’t from a fucking  _prison._  And for the public-school kids, it was probably just to inspire them to work hard enough to go to school or even one day live in a place like it, even though none of them wouldn’t ever step foot on anything like Dalton’s grounds again in their  _life_.

It was inconvenient and stupid. People were missing practice with their clubs because of this – Nathan from Dalton’s football team had to be dragged, kicking and screaming out of Dalton because McKinley’s football team was  _abysmal._

And the Dalton Glee club, of which Sebastian was a member, the Warblers, even had to practice with the McKinley Glee club. The only reason it couldn’t be considered cheating to sit in on the practice of a competing Glee club, was because several members of the McKinley club was being sent to Dalton.

“Everyone got directions on their GPS?” David shouted over the hubbub of the muttering teen boys. (Nathan was still sulking, and looking longingly back at the Dalton football pitch, as though saying goodbye to a cherished lover). The designated drivers nodded, and unlocked their respective cars, letting the boys who were supposed to go with them crawl inside.

The system with the designated drivers had developed because of a combination of a wish to not alienate themselves completely from the masses at McKinley – having several dozen BMWs and even two Ferraris (the Daniels twins had gotten one each for their birthday) in a parking lot at a school where the majority of the students had likely never even  _seen_  a car that expensive would very much alienate them- and the wish to not have their car stolen. The solution had been clear: Have fewer cars in the parking lot, by having as many students as possible cram themselves into them. 

Sebastian crawled into someone’s BMW, next to a couple boys he was on friendly foot with, but not friends with, and David in the front seat.

“Wes already texted me, telling me we need to pick up everything we can about that Glee club while we’re there,” David snickered. “Our fearless leader is a maniac,” he told Sebastian

Sebastian rolled his eyes and thumped his forehead against David’s car seat, the delicious leather interior cool against his skin. “You  _know_  I’d rather have stayed at Dalton this week. Literally, I’d have done  _anything,_ I’d have faced Wes’ wrath over only having three Warblers spying instead of four,  _anything_  I tell you.”

“Except let daddy cut your allowance for a month,” David said mockingly.

“I despise everything about you,” Sebastian said with no real heat.

* * *

 

Sebastian was overwhelmed by the stink of mediocrity as he stepped out of the car. The sun was peeking out from behind the clouds, shining its light upon the ugly buildings of McKinley High School. It looked drab, boring, and like every student currently present at it would melt into the very foundation of the school and never leave. The concept of a ’Lima Loser’ was easy to understand when looking at this place.

He straightened his polo shirt with his hand, and started walking towards the doors, studying the students – timid freshmen moving about in small clusters, even several months into the school year, confident cheerleaders strutting with their tiny skirts swishing, nerdy kids of either sex reading as they walked, jocks throwing balls at each other. It was like a zoo.

A group of boys in letterman-jackets were laughing raucously and high-fiving each other, as though they had just accomplished the funniest task.

Behind them, a boy was hauling himself out of a dumpster, peeling a loose-fitting, discolored sweater off, to reveal what was clearly some high-end fashion shirt, the fabric shimmering in the cold air.

Sebastian felt something bitter twist inside him at the sad sight. The boy looked unaffected, though disgusted, and just started walking, after having packed away the shirt, his face just expressing cold superiority.

Gods. Public school already looked like it was going to be a disaster.

* * *

After an awkward conversation with the school’s principal who kept telling them that it was against school rules to eat popcorn in class and that nice shoes like theirs should be mandatory school dress-code, they got their respective schedules and scurried off to classes of a shockingly low quality. For some reason, in every class, there was at least one rebel eating popcorn.

A big girl, evidently named Lauren Sizes, told Sebastian that they were taking down the establishment of McKinley High through popcorn eating.

Sebastian felt as though he was high the whole day and wondered if it was something in the cafeteria food. Did they drug these students? Considering they were being fed prison food, he had to assume that prison was a special kind of ‘what-the-actual-fuck’.

Speaking of the cafeteria food: it tasted like cardboard and broken dreams. He had foolishly chosen to go with the healthier option, rather than go for the tater tots everyone else was picking up and had wanted to break into tears. Eating moldy salad and the dry lasagna was not his idea of fun.

He sat with the Daniels twins and Nathan, all three of whom were glumly talking about how horrible McKinley’s sports teams were said to be.

“Their hockey team somehow manages to slice somebody’s hand open with a blade in practice every time,” Adam Daniels said, and his twin nodded. “I don’t get how that’s even POSSIBLE.”

“I’m supposed to be on the football team with them! They lose so spectacularly every single time. I want to set this place on fire!”

They all looked expectantly at Sebastian. “They don’t have lacrosse here, so I’m free. I do have Glee club Tuesday and Thursday though, but I don’t know how terrible they are.” He said with a shrug.

Nathan pointed his fork at him. “You… are a lucky motherfucker,” Sebastian smirked.

* * *

 

Mr. Schuester had to know that most people weren’t paying attention today. The Glee club was sat watching the Warbler boys with wary suspicion, and the Warblers were either texting or studying the New Direction kids like they were animals at the zoo.

Nick Duval seemed about ready to ask the girl with the knee socks and horrific sweater – they’d all introduced themselves and Sebastian had promptly forgotten all their names, (except for a big black girl named Mercedes, but mostly he remembered that because his  _dad_ had a Mercedes) – why on earth she was wearing a reindeer sweater outside of Christmas, and David was tapping away on his phone. Tristan, a quiet boy, was sitting in the back, watching them all, and seemed to be the only one listening to what the Spanish-and-choir-teacher was saying. Mr. Shuester seemed unable to grasp the idea of  _making_ the kids listen. Maybe he was hoping that the kids subconsciously would remember the stuff he’d been saying?

David’s incessant tapping was starting to tire Sebastian.

“Aren’t we supposed to be paying attention?” Sebastian asked David with a raised eyebrow. “Not that I am, but you know, you normally follow Wes’ orders like a loyal dog.”

“Wes is texting me about some guy named Puck, who seems intent on stealing the chandelier,” David told him, ignoring the insult.

The girl with the knee socks sighed exasperatedly and with a face so dramatic it looked as though her world was as good as over. “Ugh, that big idiot!”

It seemed that her voice actually drove the teacher out of his ramblings about the intricacies of Vocal Adrenaline’s dance moves, and he looked quizzically at his student. “Yes, Rachel?”

She ignored him and slapped the arm of the boy next to her. “Finn, you have to  _do something_  about that! Noah can’t just steal the chandelier, that could potentially get the New Directions in trouble.”

Finn looked spooked at her demands, and spluttered something along the lines of ‘well what do you want me to  _do?_ ’

A Latina wearing a cheerleading outfit muttered, “I’m still upset  _I_ wasn’t allowed to go,  _I_ taught him how to dismantle chandeliers.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully and said, “I could probably disguise myself somehow.”

David looked confused. “But you’re… a girl. How would you even get in?”

The girl looked at him, as though he was stupid. “Just told you. Disguise. Coach Sylvester would totally help me out if I could figure out an angle that would help the Cheerios...”

A blonde girl wearing a loose, flowery dress that barely hid what Sebastian was sure was a pregnant belly, rolled her eyes in unison with Sebastian.

“Coach Sylvester would never let you step foot on school grounds where there were no cheerleading activities Santana. She says cheerleading is a pillar of human society. That’s why she wouldn’t let you go to Crawford Day this week.” A different blonde, also in a cheerleading uniform, said, her voice airy and ditzy.

The other cheerleader considered that for a moment. “That’s true Britt. You are so smart.” The two girls linked pinkies, and Britt smiled, looking satisfied.

The teacher looked a little lost, but cleared his throat and said, “in any case, I would like to hear the assignments I gave you last week now –“

“Kurt’s not here yet,” Mercedes interrupted. “We can’t start unless all the members are here.”

“Except for that time with Matt and the spider in his ear,” Brittany muttered to Santana.

A moment later, the door burst open, and a lithe figure burst in, clearly out of breath from running. “Sorry I’m later Mr. Schue, I got slushied and had to clean up. I’ll never know how they can afford to spend 50 cents every day on buying slushies to throw into our faces, but they can’t buy a simple deodorant to mask the stink of sweaty failure.”

He spoke quickly, and his voice was high, girly. Sebastian had heard some jock ridicule Glee as ‘homo explosion’, and he was pretty sure this guy was the reason for that name. Everything about him screamed flamboyant gay boy. Ugh.

“Preach boy, I got slushied this morning, Tina helped me out,” Mercedes said as the boy threw himself down in the seat next to her, and they did the absolute  _gayest_  little finger wriggle to say hello to each other. And considering how Sebastian liked to make out with boys, that said a lot.

It turned out that the assignment from last week was to sing a song from a bad moment in their lives.

“As I told you last week, the song can be anything from the song that played on the radio while it was happening, to a song you heard when thinking about it afterward.” Mr. Schuester said, looking smugly satisfied with his amazing idea.

Ridiculous.

“Quinn, you first!” he called out. Quinn dusted off her dress with shaky hands and walked up to the piano.

“This was the sung that was sung to me just before the worst moment of my life so far.” the blonde cheerleader said. She looked at Finn for a moment, opened her mouth, closed it. She licked her lips and began singing.

Her voice was pretty, angelic. Innocent. It contrasted with the lyrics -  _You’re Having My Baby_  by Paul Anka, the lyrics altered in some places. Apparently, Finn had sung that to her? Must have sucked to have him cheat on her with Rachel then, he concluded, watching the brunette clinging to the boy’s arm. That could obviously bring back a lot of bad memories when hearing the song. All this drama with straight people was already giving him a headache.

As soon as Quinn had finished her song, Rachel stormed up to the piano, snapped something to the pianist, and turned, looking at them all, a fierce look on her face.

Rachel sang a heartfelt rendition of People by Barbra Streisand, her eyes never leaving Finn. She was good, her voice smooth and clear, practiced and mesmerizing. She seemed to take every note as a challenge, as a battle, a mountain to climb.

_We're children, needing other children_

_And yet letting our grown-up pride_

_Hide all the need inside_

If all the voices in the club were at the same standard as these, the Warblers might be in trouble, Sebastian thought and exchanged a glance with David. Wes was  _not_  going to be happy.

When Rachel finished, she sat down next to Finn again, clinging to his arm, staring at Quinn in warning.

Next, a boy in a wheelchair – a  _wheelchair!_ How was that going to work at a competition? – rolled up to the front of the room, and quietly said, “My song was playing on the radio when my dad and I were driving home from a visit at my grandparents’ house when I was nine. It was dark, and my dad had the radio turned all the way up, so we could hear his mixtape properly. And suddenly, out of the darkness comes this car. The lights weren’t on, so my dad didn’t see it before it was too late. He tried to swerve, but it wasn’t enough, the car still hit us. Hit my side of the car. We still crashed, I remember screaming, and the music playing like a horror movie. And I’ll spare you the story of how my spinal cord snapped, or how I spent days in the hospital just listening to this track, over and over, not wanting to believe that I was never going to walk again.”

He nodded at the jazz band, and music started playing.

_Listen to the wind blow, watch the sun rise_

_Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies_ …

Sebastian couldn’t help but feel touched by the haunting melody, and the way the boy – was his name Arthur? – sat in his chair, singing his heart out. He looked so lonely there, and so small.

Around him, the Glee kids were crying quiet tears, as they started harmonizing in the background, rounding out the song, filling small slots of imperfection he hadn’t even noticed.

An Asian girl stood up and walked down to the singing boy from her seat in the back.

_And if you don’t love me now_

_You will never love me again_ , she sang, and though Sebastian was sure they were dating, he’d seen them together in the halls, it didn’t sound like a love song. It wasn’t about  _them_ , it was about only the fragile boy in the wheelchair right then. Tina stood there, singing to him, and he sang back, swapping lines almost as though they had planned it, but it was clear, at the same time, that they hadn’t.

Slowly, the other kids started flocking to the front of the room, singing together more loud, more united. One of the boys pulled through with some amazing dance moves – it seemed like he was almost double jointed – and the ditzy Brittany quickly picked up on every move he was making, creating an intricate dance together.

Somehow, even though they were all a messy bunch, they managed to sound… pretty good, actually. Huh. He wouldn’t have thought a messy meeting like this could result in such brilliance.

* * *

 Wednesday was boring. Well, as boring as it could really be at a public school. He saw three separate students get hit in the face with a slushy drink, a kid with big hair and a microphone in his hand get his head dunked in the toilets, and the flaming gay from Glee get pushed into lockers. The boy also changed his clothes several times during the day; Sebastian thought he was being an overly dramatic fashion freak before he caught him between the second and third outfit, covered in slushy and on his way into the bathroom to clean himself up. Huh. He wondered if the kid was okay, but. Well, he seemed to be coping, didn’t he? He had a system.

So Sebastian just continued down to the school cafeteria, to get his lunch. According to his schedule, there was no Glee club until tomorrow, due to football practice today, so he’d get to go home early. David was attempting to chat up a pretty cheerleader. He had  _no_ game. All he needed to do was mention his expensive car and the foolish girl would probably follow him anywhere.

He told Nick this - and got hit on the shoulder for his trouble. “Don’t be a sexist asshole Sebastian,” he said and continued stuffing himself with tortillas.

* * *

 As he was leaving the school that afternoon, he saw a slender boy surrounded by what must the hockey team, considering football practice had already started.

They were pushing him around a bit, and Sebastian felt something twist inside him at the sight. It looked like the beginnings of a Smear the Queer game.

Sebastian had never really been a victim of severe homophobia himself, considering how he could easily pass for a straight guy, but he’d known people who had. Of course, there’d been that one time he’d been called a faggot when he was kissing a boy when he was at a party, but that was really all. None of his close gay friends had been gay-bashed, but a friend of a friend who went in the same circles as he did, had. It’d been distressing and scary, and so, so awful, and Sebastian didn’t even want to think about it most of the time.

Just because he thought Kurt’s voice was way too high for any guy with self-respect, didn’t mean he thought he deserved anything like that. It was really just gay solidarity.

He started towards the group, just as one of them ripped his bag from his shoulder.

An indignant cry sounded from Kurt, as he helplessly saw the strap of the satchel being ripped apart, and one of the jocks upended it in the trash, throwing the bag in after.

“You’re gonna have to climb into the trash where you belong to get your trashy things!” one of the boys taunted. Sebastian wondered if he even had two brain cells to rub together. The group had dispersed before he could get close enough. Kurt was looking bitterly after them, then took his jacket off and delicately hung it on the edge of the dumpster, before climbing up the side.

He’d never seen anyone climb into a dumpster voluntarily before, but he sure had now. The boy dug around, picking up his stuff and putting it back in his bag, cursing under his breath, no doubt thinking about the boys.

“Do you want any help?” Sebastian asked. The boy straightened his back up, and watched him warily, and, Sebastian noted, clutching his bag tighter in his hand. Fair enough. If he’d just had his shit tossed in a dumpster, and a complete stranger came up to him, he’d be wary too.

A strange urge to actually help the boy settled in him, and he grabbed the edge of the dumpster, heaving himself up – he played lacrosse, he had arm strength – and let himself tumble in-elegantly into

Ugh. He was regretting this already. A banana peel was stuck to his shoe. He grimaced and picked up a bottle of hairspray, throwing it to Kurt. The boy caught it with a flabbergasted look on his face.

“Why?” Kurt asked. Sebastian shrugged, but ultimately said, “us gays gotta stick together right?”

Kurt blinked a couple times, and weakly said, “Yeah. I guess we do.”

Sebastian knelt down to pick up a USB drive stick and threw it to Kurt. They dug in the garbage in silence, under the sun.

* * *

 At lunch on Thursday, Nathan looked  _pissed_  as he stabbed his pile of overcooked canned mashed potatoes.

“I thought they were maybe just  _slightly_  more pathetic Monday afternoon because they didn’t know any of us and were awkward, or something, but no! They were even more awful yesterday!” Nathan fumed. It didn’t take a genius to deduce that he was talking about the football team – Nathan didn’t think about anything but football.

“They’ve won  _one_  game this year, solely because of a stellar kicker who taught them to dance Single Ladies on the field, and who scored the winning point because of his golden foot.” He continued, sounding bitter.

“I don’t recall Beyoncé flash mobs being something that happens in football regularly,” Sebastian said, keeping his face straight for the duration of the sentence before he let out a loud snort.

Nathan sighed. “It isn’t.” He chuckled, then. “It was fun to watch though. Some proud parent captured it all on video.”

He pulled out his phone and showed Sebastian a video from a random Facebook-page – a group of football players clad in red uniforms about to play against the team in blue when the quarterback gestured somewhere towards the stands. The screeching of the speakers grinding to a halt was especially tough on the ears through the tinny speakers on the phone, but then – then fucking  _Single Ladies_ was playing, and the boys on the field were dancing. They looked like a bunch of confused Drag Queens, wearing football uniforms instead of ostentatious dresses.

“Oh god. That’s fucking hilarious!” Sebastian guffawed; he’d never have thought he’d have to see big, tough football players dancing to Single Ladies of all things. They were surprisingly adept at it, too. Even if their bulky bodies and uniforms didn’t particularly lend itself to a lot of hip movement. The sass of the song was pretty clear in their bodies.

“Well, ass-slapping’s a staple of football anyway,” Sebastian commented as the players did the iconic butt-slap.

They continued watching the video in silence, as one of the players managed to score a touchdown. “Now it’s all down to the kicker,” Nathan explained, and they watched as a tiny slip of a boy walked onto the field in a uniform that looked almost too big for him.

“He’s  _tiny_ ,” Sebastian said. He wasn’t all that into football, but he couldn’t recall the kicker being  _that_  small usually. Wasn’t that just asking for a pummeling on the field? He looked like he could be blown away by a tuft of wind compared to the other guys.

“Wait, that’s the guy who taught them the dance right?” he asked, remembering what Nathan had said earlier.

“Yup,” Nathan said, looking down at the phone screen. There was a worshipful look in his eyes as the small boy hurried to his spot, and – music began playing. Because of course.

The boy did a few fluid moves from the choreography, combined with some warm-up movements as he ran towards the ball and – it sailed through the air, and through the goal posts.

A loud, “that’s my boy!” was audible through the speakers, even over the manic cheers of the spectators.

“If I wasn’t exclusively into chicks, I’d fucking marry that guy,” Nathan said longingly, as his screen turned at the end of the video.  
“Discovering your homoerotic nature, are you Nate?”

Nathan rolled his eyes. “I’m in love with his leg, not his dick Sebastian.”

Sebastian snickered. Nathan hit his arm and then said, “Anyway, the golden kicker quit a few weeks later, apparently he’s in the Glee club as well, and when the coach told them they had to choose between Glee and football, he chose Glee. Apparently, most of them are glad he’s gone, you should  _hear_ them talking about how they’re glad the queer boy isn’t in their locker room anymore.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “He won them the first game in… how long?” he asked rhetorically.

“They lost to the school for the deaf.” Nathan deadpanned.  
“Whoa.”

* * *

 Finn sang a Journey song – Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’ – with a faraway look in his eyes and Mike Chang had the jazz band play a symphony while he danced, a mishmash of a thousand different styles in one fluid motion. David looked like he wanted to weep with panic.

And then it was Kurt’s turn. Sebastian couldn’t pretend he hadn’t been anxious for this one, though he couldn’t pinpoint  _why_. He just wanted to know what Kurt would be singing, he supposed.

Kurt sashayed up to the front. Sebastian had a flash of a football flying through the air going through the air, as his eyes lingered on the boy’s long legs, encased in the tightest pair of jeans he’d seen on a boy since… well. Ever.

Kurt wasn’t his type; his frilly outfits and high voice and girly face was the opposite of just about everything Sebastian was attracted to. Sebastian liked boys that looked like  _boys_ , and Kurt was not anything like that. But, however, Kurt had convinced a bunch of big, bulky football players to dance to Beyoncé, and had been the one to win the game, and had then  _quit._ Sebastian could admire having balls like that. Sebastian could appreciate the sheer daring of Kurt, to storm the football field and demand that they dance to Beyoncé- Kurt had won them their game but on his terms only.

(and, okay, he could also appreciate Kurt’s ass, now that he really let himself notice it, as the boy bent over slightly to give a guitar player in the band some papers. It was a great ass.)

“I wanted to sing something different this time,” Kurt said, as he turned around, and pulled a seat out for himself. “You know I love to sing Broadway, you know I love Lady Gaga, and you could probably guess I have a shrine dedicated to Britney Spears. This, though, is neither of those things. I hope you enjoy.”

_I thank the boys who kicked my ass when I was 17_

_I thank the ones who chose to laugh and those who acted mean_

_I thank the bullies for body slams and accidents and then some_

Sebastian liked YouTube, and he’d seen Jason Mraz perform this song in a few videos. His voice was nothing like Kurt’s though, so it was clear Kurt had made adjustments to the arrangement to accommodate his own voice but yet – yet. It didn’t feel like Kurt was changing the song. It felt like Kurt was just making it his own – it was his now. 

_I thank the girls who gave a hand and showed me how to dance_

_I thank the ones who passed who never gave a second glance_

Kurt was smiling softly at Mercedes, with so much love in his eyes.

He sang and sang and sang. His voice was different from Rachel’s, though he clearly could hit many of the same notes as she; there was a different edge to it, He did sound like a woman, but he also sounded  _different_  than a woman, somehow. And he could go deeper than Rachel at some points too. If he hasn’t been enraptured, he’d have exchanged glances with David once again; the Warblers could be in deep trouble if the New Directions utilized all their talent.

_I thank the bullies for all the names they called along the way_

Kurt’s eyes landed on him, and the corner of his lip quirked. Sebastian smirked back.

* * *

 Sebastian intercepted Kurt by the door when the boy had packed his bag  – it was a different one than yesterday’s, he noted, and was waiting for Mercedes.

“You were pretty good,” he found himself saying, his hands deep in his jeans pockets, so they didn’t flutter anywhere

Kurt smirked and fixed his hair with a couple dainty fingers. “Naturally.”

* * *

 

Sebastian figured he must be high when he stared at the glum buildings Friday morning and realized he was actually going to kind of  _miss_  this stupid, crazy school. He’d seen the cheerleading coach threatening a crying freshman thrice this week, he’d have to be either high or stupid to miss this place. He clapped the roof of David’s BMW – the boy in question had already run up to the girl he’d been chatting up the whole week, not caring if Sebastian followed – and started walking towards the school.  
That’s when he saw Kurt by the dumpsters. Again.

The boy was surrounded by jocks, again. And Mr. Schuester had just walked right past, saying a cheeky, “having fun Kurt?” and throwing finger guns at him. Kurt’s face didn’t even light up in hope at the sight of him, he just looked resigned to his fate.

And. Okay. That was not okay. Sebastian hadn’t stood in a dumpster and almost slipped on a banana peel, just for Kurt to look  _resigned_  to being thrown into a  _dumpster_.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to do, but he’d wing it as he went along, he figured, as he strode over to the dumpsters, making sure to remember that even though these boys were about three times his size, he was better than them on all counts.

“Hi babe!” he said, as he reached Kurt, grabbed his arm and dragged him out from under the sweaty jock’s arm as though the jock was merely air. Kurt’s tight facial expression relaxed minutely upon seeing it was him, though he did still look pretty wound up. (Probably still didn’t trust him too much. Here was to hoping he trusted him at least a little.)

He didn’t let himself think, as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on Kurt’s lips, attempting to make it look as though he was as familiar with it as possible. For about a second, Kurt was frozen, and Sebastian had the vague realization that Kurt possibly hadn’t kissed anyone before – but then Kurt seemed to come alive, and responded tentatively, letting his hands come up to rest on Sebastian’s shoulders, not quite pulling him in, but indeed making them look comfortable and familiar. Kurt’s lips were soft and tasted of vanilla, and as Sebastian sucked on his bottom lip, he was pulled closer. Sebastian wasn’t into making out in public though – especially not in front of a bunch of jocks whose stares he could feel drilling into his head, even as he wanted to keep kissing Kurt.

So he parted from Kurt’s lips and glanced around at the other boys with a contemptuous look in his eyes.

They looked like they wanted to smear them both into a bloody pulp. Okay, Sebastian was  _not_  into that. Time to implement part two of his plan.

“My father’s the state’s attorney, and if I let your deplorable behavior to  _my boyfriend_  slip,” he winked at Kurt, “you could lose everything you have. He’ll take your cars, your house, get your mommy and daddy fired from their job, maybe he’ll even manage to get you sent to jail for being in possession of all the drugs necessary to believe that this behavior is in any way acceptable.”

The jocks looked shocked and disgusted, but also genuinely fearful. They all dispersed quickly, and Sebastian smirked. Oh, how he loved the taste of power.

“Did you really just pull the ‘my dad could beat up your dad’ card? That’s so kindergarten.” Kurt teased next to him as he let go of his shoulders, and Sebastian grinned abashedly,

“Okay, I lied about that. Mostly my dad doesn’t give a shit. It’s a good excuse though, and he  _is_  the State’s attorney.”  
Kurt smiled, nodded. Sebastian was pretty sure he was still looking at his mouth. “Anyway. Thanks. Even if your outfit is terrible, which, full disclosure, it is… you helped me.”

Sebastian harrumphed. Having boys sass him after kissing was not an experience he’d wanted to ever gain.

“We better get to class.”

Kurt giggled, the sound ringing like bells.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally added this one to the series!


End file.
